


The Light that Flickered Out

by ohnovaks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Actually Crazy Amount of Metaphors, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Comfort, Confessions, Destiel - Freeform, Emotional, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Metaphorical, Mild Angst, Misconceptions, Misunderstandings, Teenagers, non-angel!castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 22:22:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16543409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohnovaks/pseuds/ohnovaks
Summary: Castiel and Dean had been growing apart recently. Crying, far past midnight, Castiel called Dean senior year on a saturday begging him to come over. Dean still answered the phone, and he still drove to his house in that old Impala his dad gave to him. Because still, Dean loved Castiel.





	The Light that Flickered Out

**Author's Note:**

> I literally wrote this all in like, two days. Needless to say, it may be bad, but I tried my best.  
> Also I hope you're all having an amazing day! x

Castiel and Dean had been growing apart recently. 

 

The two had known each other since Castiel moved to Kansas when he was in fourth grade, talking everyday about their favorite tv shows or what stupid things their siblings had done. And soon enough, Dean was bringing Cas home to play in his room for a few hours, and then after that he would take brief trips to Castiel’s house. Around seventh grade the playdates became less play and they would sit around, stuffing their mouths with assortments of chips and chatting about basically everything and sharing secrets.

And as everyone knows, humans grow. There is a stage of time where growth leads to attraction and discovering who and what you’re attracted to. From Castiel’s side it seemed pretty easy for Dean. He’d talk about girls like there was no tomorrow and Cas would just sit there and nod his head and pretend to agree. Even though he couldn’t find it in himself to find them hot, no matter their style, and he couldn’t figure out why or what was wrong with him. Until he did one day, figure out the three letter word that defined not only why girls didn’t peak his interest but why Dean did. Castiel knew this new revelation was going to shed a lot of light on everything, but he couldn’t find it easy to say to his best friend. 

Because no matter how he’d practiced in the mirror over and over the reflection wasn’t and would never be Dean. One day it came out, full to the brim with stuttering and flushed cheeks and hyperventilation. And when it was all off his chest Dean just paused and said, “Yeah, okay,"

Cas had asked if that was all he had to say and Dean’s green eyes traced over Cas’ face briefly. “I mean, yeah, me too I guess,” He replied, taking a swig of the root beer in a glass bottle, holding it by the neck, “I mean, not that I don’t like girls, totally do, but I mean… I like guys too.”

That was the end. No more to be discussed, just a swift nod and carrying on to watching television. Dean didn’t distance himself from his friend on the couch, nor did he in school when his best friend came out to their peers. And nobody really teased him, but even if they had it wouldn’t last long. Dean wasn’t too popular, but he was on the football team. That was enough. 

Still, as high school went on longer, Castiel found that being out and proud with his sexuality meant that guys liked him. Dean had said once that he was definitely hot as hell, and that girls and guys both wanted him, even though only one group had a chance. Cas had blushed and looked down like he didn’t believe it, but then he found as time passed he’d gotten asked out on dates constantly. And once, to a boy named Ezekiel in his sophomore year, he’d said yes. They dated, and as they did, Dean and Cas grew apart. Dean got a girl named Anna, and Castiel’s relationship with Ezekiel developed. So, needless to say, they were attached at the hip for quite a while; and Castiel and Dean had been growing apart recently. 

 

Still, with established distance and romantic partners and Castiel getting in drama club while Dean was in football, only speaking in their English or Sociology classes and maybe outside of school with a group once or twice a month. Still, with all of the time spent apart, Cas looked to Dean to help him get all those scattered pieces put back together. 

Crying, far past midnight, Castiel called Dean senior year on a saturday begging him to come over. Dean still answered the phone, and he still drove to his house in that old Impala his dad gave to him. Because still, through the miles of distance like a telephone call picked up only to be listening to static, Dean loved Castiel. Capital L, hearts spinning around heads, cupid’s bow & arrows Love. And he had, since middle school. He should’ve told Anna, he should’ve told Cas, should’ve told someone besides Sammy. But he didn’t. That, though he could resist it and lie all day, was the reason the distance began. Because distraction in the form of pretty girls and alcohol wasn’t working, and having a baby brother as a therapist for his gay problems wasn’t either. So he thought maybe, if they grew apart and he blamed it on time, he would fall out of love. But nothing could really make Dean love Cas any less except time itself. And maybe not even that. 

There he was, Castiel’s room at one-something in the morning, arm around his still-best-friend and letting him bury his face in Dean’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” Dean assured, unsure even if it was, “It’ll be alright, buddy.”

“Ezekiel and I broke up, Dean,” Castiel whispered, words muffled from the fabric of Dean’s fuzzy sweater, “‘Was a few days ‘go, but still. We’re not… not a thing,” He’d paused, looking up at Dean with puffy eyes and his nose and cheeks all pink, “That’s not why I’m sad, though,” Dean chanced asking Castiel why he was sad, and for a moment the boy looked down to his lap. Then he shifted so he was turning fully to his best friend rather than against him. “Can I explain it in a way that you’ll better understand?” Castiel asked, tilting his head. Dean nodded. 

“Okay so,” The blue eyed boy looked down to his hands, as if they were proud models for the following metaphor. One was grasped in a fist, the other with fingers all splayed out, “There was basically always this light. And - and when I saw the light, no matter how sad I was, my tears just were gone. The light brought back the light in me, you know?” He’s raised his open palm slightly, studying it carefully. Dean noticed a small scar on the side of his hand, where he remembered the boy had torn it on a rock back in middle school when they snuck out. When Dean looked up he saw Cas was already looking at him, and he nodded his head to let him know he understood. Castiel looked back down to the hand. Dean could faintly tell that he remembered the same as Dean did, seeing the way he tilted his hand slightly so the scar was better visible. 

“Except the one time I needed it more than anything,” Castiel’s eyes fell closed, and his hand clenched into a fist. The only noise was that of rain gently tapping on the roof’s boards and cars driving along the road, hums of engines and tires against the ground. “I look for it, look out that window where it always is and… it’s flickered out. Gone,” He hesitated, reaching his fist up to brush the tears away from his cheeks, “And I can’t even be shocked, not really. Because I saw it from the distance and I just chose to ignore it. It’s like if someone told you the sun was dying and you thought it was no big deal because you have light bulbs.”

He’d laughed at this, dryly and sadly and without humor like he was obligated to. For the first time in minutes, he looked up slightly and Dean was able to see how much more upset Cas had looked compared to just minutes before. His cheeks were much more damp, shining in the dim light with tears. Cas seemed to be waiting for a response, and he let out a weak little sniffle. “Was Ezekiel like, your sun or whatever?” He asked, trying not to sound angry. He didn’t know why they weren’t a thing anymore, but he was mad at Ezekiel for hurting Castiel this much, even if he had denied that was the source of his pain.

“God, no, Dean,” Castiel laughed again, breaking eye contact. This laughter was sad, but didn’t lack humor like before. Then he looked back up at Dean like he was utterly an idiot, “It’s like, everyone I know is a star. Because there’s so many people and they’re all different and some I see more than others and stuff. Ezekiel, Meg, Gabriel, you,” Dean’s heart sunk, as if there was any hope for him to be important, “my dad, my mom, everyone is a star. Then there’s that one star that humanity needs… that I need,” Castiel grabbed Dean’s hand in his own, “You’re my sun, Dean. You’re my light. And recently I noticed you’ve been gone, a lot more than usual. I don’t know what I did or whatever, but I just miss you so much. And I know you hate stuff like this, all emotional and weird,” He sniffled again, breaking eye contact, “But I love you. Seriously.”

“Wait, hold on,” Dean said quickly, voice shaking as his hand that wasn't held in his friend's went up to stop Cas from speaking further, “What do you mean? Love as in…” Dean paused, hoping he wouldn’t have to directly state what he was asking. Castiel knew him better than anyone, besides maybe Sam, and he knew in that moment what Dean was asking. Just like he always did; he knew Dean.

“Like it’s taking every ounce of self control not to kiss you,” He declared. Dean hesitated, knowing exactly how he felt and how Castiel felt and what he wanted. He could feel it, between them like static electricity. He felt their yearn to draw forward, to connect and collide and feel. Underneath his skin, in his mind he knew that this was what they’d always wanted. He could always feel the tension, pulling them like thick rope. Yet he fought, refused to identify it, and here it was. He wasn’t passing it up like he had been constantly, for years before that day. Dean Winchester would not ignore, nor would he resist this.

“Why are you holding back?” Dean asked, and the question lingered between them for a moment. Castiel’s thoughts were reflected on his face, eyes widened with realization. He seemed ready to speak, words lingering below his skin and behind his lips but not breaking through. Not forming themselves into words, just turning to actions as he leaned forward.

Slow motion, it felt like. Dean had been waiting for this for longer than he could remember, before he even processed what the want was. Back when he was young, and he could feel it’s vibrato beneath his skin when he saw Castiel, begging for an escape, begging for this static connection. Yet here he was, seeing it happen, and it was all slow motion. He wanted to feel, to breathe in the air of the kiss. So as Cas slowly leaned forward, slow motion, Dean’s hands reached up and pulled his face forward. There they connected, and it was not the fireworks he’d expected. It wasn’t silence, nor was he hyper aware of everything. It wasn’t every puzzle piece fit together, and it wasn’t serenity. It was passion, and it was static. It felt like he was on fire where Castiel’s skin met his own. It felt like pins and needles all over his skin, spreading through each of his limbs like the plague, leaving him numb. He was glad he was sitting down, because he felt limp and couldn’t hold back what sounded far too much like a squeak. It felt like slow motion and fire and static and he felt numb. And somehow, it felt like the best thing he’d felt so far. 

“I love you,” Castiel whispered when they broke, his eyes closed. Still, they were connected where Cas held Dean’s hand in his own. 

“Yeah,” Dean said, just like he had, all those years ago, “Yeah, me too,”

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed it let me know and leave kudos if you want!  
> Maybe give me ideas, too, because I'm going through an idea drought here.


End file.
